Left Out
by Archfiend Barbariccia
Summary: Always the supporter, never the supported…always wanted, never needed…watching while everything slipped through his fingers like sand in an hourglass. FF4, Unrequited Kain/Rosa, implied Cecil/Rosa
1. At the Oak Tree

**Disclaimer:** I'm not making any money off of this. Don't sue me!

**Fandom:** Final Fantasy IV

**Pairing:** Unrequited Kain/Rosa; implied Cecil/Rosa

**Rating:** T

**Author's Notes: **Sweet Christmas in July! So much snow! How will I ever pass the time buried six feet deep in my own house? Oh wait, I have an angsty Dragoon to screw with. Time to yank on Kain's heartstrings until they fall right off!

Also FF.N hates my pretty-ful line breaks. Foo on you auto-formatting!

* * *

Kain dug his heavy lance into the earth of Mount Ordeals, and stopped to rest. The hot yellow disk in the sky crowned the mountain's peak at high noon and beat him mercilessly through heavy armor and clothes that now clung a little too tightly to his sun-prickled skin. His legs were sore, thighs cramped up with calves aching, beckoning him for once to place his body before his mind. Stubborn as always, Kain never listened: rest a bit, stretch his muscles, consume some nourishment…then back to training. There was nothing to do on Mount Ordeals but think and train. Most days, the dragoon preferred the latter to the former.

It was clear to him after the first week that he wasn't in Baron anymore. For the first time in his life, Kain lived as men did in ages long past, on a base diet of edible foliage and whatever flesh he happened to kill. The local monsters on the mountain itself consisted of mass legions of the undead; thus Kain would descend to sea level and trap his meals in the forests. He learned through trial and error which creatures were safe to eat and which ones were best left to the wayfaring traveler: once, when particularly hungry, Kain thought it wouldn't hurt to eat a Needlehog. Big mistake. To begin with, it was one of the most obnoxious animals to skin, and in addition, he fell ill for two days with a sick stomach. It turned out Needlehogs had a poison which secreted in small amounts through their spikes; not nearly enough to poison a human, unless of course one was stupid enough to eat the porous meat it came from.

On the other hand, he also learned how to treat wounds with natural herbs, which worked just as well as any potion. As the monsters on and around Mount Ordeals no longer proved much of a challenge, he never had to worry about more than a few cuts and minor magic-related injuries. There was a certain satisfaction the dragoon felt whenever he dressed his own wounds, killed and cooked his own meat, fashioned his own bedding out of monster skins or started his own fires. It kept him from thinking about the past; it made him feel wanted and useful (if only to himself) in a period of his life where there was no world-threatening power to destroy and no friends to betray. No alien feelings of romance to eat away at his rotten heart.

Here, Kain was needed in a place where his skills were necessary for his very survival; a place where he was useful for something other than being the awkward third wheel.

* * *

Baronian summers were usually mild and temperate: hot enough to declare it was summer, warm enough to stand out in the sun without melting. But sometimes a wave would push through—either from the Damcyan Desert or from Eblan to the west—and those snaps of unbearable heat were always the last straw to little Kain's nerves.

"I _abhor_ this weather," he complained, dropping to the grass beside Rosa under the shade of a wide oak tree. "It's too _hot_ to do anything. Too hot to run, too hot to jump, too hot to sleep!"

Rosa dabbed at her cherubic face with a small handkerchief whenever she felt sweat sticking to her skin, grimacing at the icky sensation it brought. Her pale young body of eight winters hid from the light of the sun in a full-coverage pink dress with a red bodice (the thinnest garment she owned, and still it caused her discomfort), hair drawn up into twin buns on either side of her head. Her eyes seemed trained on the blue skies above, wondering what Baron had done to deserve such an insufferable summer.

"It's criminal," she agreed, heaving a dry sigh and swallowing.

Kain rolled over onto his stomach, looking up at Rosa, whose loose tendrils of strawberry-blond hair were beginning to cling to her face. He frowned at the sight. Girls should not be made to put up with in this weather. Boys like him, who ran through the woods and skinned their knees and did the things boys often do, could perhaps resist these poor conditions a little. But girls were not boys. Girls were delicate, in need of special attention and care, like plants or flowers. Rosa, especially, was still quite young…and quite fragile.

"Do you want to go inside?" he checked. "Or get some water? Are you thirsty?"

Smiling at him sweetly, Rosa shook her head and fanned herself with one hand, handkerchief dangling off her fingertips. "No, I'm alright," she insisted. "Cecil said he would be back soon. We should wait for him."

Kain rolled back over and sat up to survey the town stretched out before him with a serious expression etched into his ten-year-old face. People bustled everywhere underneath pink and yellow sun umbrellas, wearing the most summerly clothes Baron could provide, and still waving fans or consuming water from portable canteens at an alarming rate. Cecil—mild-mannered, platinum-haired, delicate Cecil—had vanished into the throng many moments ago, promising them a special treat. He never said what. But with this late afternoon heat and Rosa clearly burning up in her dress, Kain felt hard-pressed to continue awaiting his return, friend or not. Couldn't the pampered boy see how inconsiderate it was to make them sit here in this weather? Even the shade only just relieved their shared discomfort. There wasn't even a cool breeze to caress their faces and dry the thin sheen of sweat on their skin.

That settled it, then. "We _will_ wait for him," Kain resolved, "inside where it's cooler. Come on." He got up to his knees, taking Rosa by the wrist, trying nicely to coax her from her spot on the sun-beaten grass.

But Rosa, like a flower rooted deep in rich Troian soil, could not be dissuaded. She tugged oh-so-lightly away from Kain's timid grip, frowning at him. "If we both go inside, who will be here to let Cecil know where we are?"

"Don't worry about it," said the tanner golden-blond, taking her wrist again. "Just come with me. There's a shop right over there we can rest in."

"Not until Cecil gets here." Rosa affirmed her decision by pulling completely out of Kain's hand, wrapping her arms around her drawn-up knees and blotting at her face. She gazed out expectantly at the crowd, searching for signs of their friend's imminent return.

The boy's lips pressed into a pouting line and Kain huffed sharply through his nostrils in frustration, eyebrows shaping a tight knot down the middle of his forehead. Couldn't she see that he was doing this for her consideration? He didn't see _Cecil_ anywhere, lifting his soft, king-spoiled fingers to help. "We still have time." He growled out, "I'll take you to the shop, then come back here and wait on Cecil for you. Aren't you hot?"

Waving her handkerchief in her face and breathing the stuffy air, Rosa moaned some noise of distress at the vocal reminder. Indeed, for how little she complained, she felt like a loaf of bread baking in an oven. All the same, it had been her, Cecil's and Kain's idea to meet today, outside or in, and Cecil had sworn he would come back. But the more she thought about it, the more she strayed. Surely a little time inside wouldn't put off the other boy's resolve…

She looked up at Kain, swallowing remnants of summer-dry saliva. "Do you promise you'll watch for him?"

"Yes, yes," snipped the older boy, growing impatient. Again he took Rosa by the wrist, this time managing to stand her on her feet and begin her walking. "I'll watch for Cecil until my eyes melt out of their sockets. Now let's get you some place cooler."

"Wait!"

Like the northern wind rushing down to chill the earth's half-baked surface, Cecil broke through the crowd, jogging as fast as his skinny legs could carry him without spilling the delicate crushed snow cones he carried in his hands. He had three of them: one each for Kain, Rosa and himself. All of Rosa's attention instantly shifted to the paler boy's coming, and Kain turned his head along with her to see everything unfurl.

He clearly showed his disdain as Cecil arrived, his deep-blue eyes narrowed in harsh scrutiny. "What took you so long?" he demanded. "We were about to go inside, you were gone so long. Rosa about fainted."

"Did not!" cried Rosa, though she didn't denote she had been entirely content.

"I'm sorry," said Cecil, handing the chilly treats out to his two friends and smiling. "But I brought you both something! A mage was in town making these with his Blizzard spell. He doused them in fruit juices to make them taste good, too. Here, we can eat them before they melt!"

Disheartened by Cecil's apparent lack of understanding on how long he had made them wait in the hot summer sun, Kain crossed his arms stubbornly at first and just settled for a disapproving glare. Perhaps this was how all children spoiled by the king himself behaved: oblivious to time and only considering the present. Well, wasn't that thoughtless of him.

Rosa, on the other hand, immediately took to the idea of a snow cone treat and chose the reddish-stained one, which to her delight was strawberry-flavored. Cecil sat down beside her with a blueberry one, biting off small pieces with young Rosa beneath the wide oak tree. Kain stood beside them, angry and begrudged, and noticing distinctly that Rosa no longer wanted to retreat to the cool indoors like _he _suggested.

Cecil noticed Kain's foul mood, and thought to extend the third snow cone to him with a concerned frown. "Kain?" He asked, "Don't you want one? They're good and cold."

Suddenly, though, Kain's demeanor was even colder than the treat in Cecil's hand. He pouted irritably even as the girlish younger boy frowned and poured worry out of every fiber of his very being. The strange violet hue of his eyes stayed fixed on Kain, holding that delicious summer-relieving snack up as high as possible while sitting down, droplets of water slipping down his fingers.

"Please, Kain? I got one for each of us."

"They're really yummy, Kain," Rosa interjected, hoping to pull the other out of his poor temperament.

He lasted another five seconds before he gazed one more time at the looks on their faces, and caved, taking up his snow cone with a silent thanks and sitting down. Kain just couldn't stay mad at them—never at Rosa, or even Cecil, despite the fact that he was the king's favorite and everybody in Baron knew it.

Still. Making them wait had been so insensitive.


	2. By the Bonfire

The downside to all of the quiet on Mount Ordeals was that it left Kain with a lot of room to fill the silence with his inner monologues. This almost always led to some downward spiral of sorts, which left him feeling depressed and unpleasant all over. It was why he preferred to jump from rock to rock and train his physical skills rather than sit and cook over an open fire. Even while making food, Kain passed the waiting period between putting his meal over the flames and actually eating it with stretches and basic dragoon-related exercises. In this manner, he avoided thinking too much about his most terrible past deeds, but it still did next to nothing about his childhood.

As the dragoon bit wordlessly into the meat of a cooked fledgling Zuu he had trapped, listening to the cricket-soft sounds of the tepid spring night, he gazed out of the cave he occupied and watched the clouds scrape by over the stars. Once he got to staring long enough, he was almost able to pick out the faces of his comrades in the heavens. And he realized again how truly alone he was.

When Kain was young, he often complained about the traveling merchant types who occasionally passed through Baron: those who were usually haggard, white-haired old men straggling along, or burly mountaineering types that looked like they belonged in the wild with the rest of the monsters out there. He complained because, as he saw it, they were all far too strange or just plain unfriendly to fit in with everyone else in the marketplace, and they brought down the revenue of the businesses around them. Kain had always pitied them whenever he looked into their wrinkled, stubble-haired faces, thinking the wandering merchants to be some breed of lesser human. Poor, unfit, unwanted rejects of society, kicked out by ill circumstances or by fault of their own hand.

It was with no shortage of irony that Kain realized he had become that which he once pitied: a lonely, lamenting, anti-social hermit. On that line of thought, he wondered, was it possible to feel pity for oneself?

He bit once more into his dinner for the night, mesmerizing himself with the flickering fire before him, chewing slowly to savor the tasteless nutrition of his hunt. He wondered quietly to himself when everything had gone so horribly wrong.

* * *

Every year, Baron town played host to a grand bonfire with flames so high they seemed to lick the stars with their heated tongues. Delicious, delicately prepared tenderloins overpopulated the refreshment tables, along with strains of the finest wine and ale money could buy, and succulent local sweets that Kain always tended to gorge himself on and feel too fat the morning following.

There was always music and dancing around this particular festival; it was Baronian tradition to partake in the performance arts, particularly in the fall, and the autumn equinox bonfire was no exception. Dancers from as far as Fabul visited the town to exchange their various styles in the craft, and while these ambassadors of dance put on a show, everyone watching was allowed to dance as they pleased.

At nearly seventeen, Kain Highwind was determined to make this autumn equinox different. Every year, he, Cecil, and Rosa attended the bonfire…and every year, Rosa chose to dance with Cecil. Not this year. This year, Kain would be the one to take Rosa's hand, to dance with her and make merriment in celebration of another good harvest.

He could never understand it, really. Not that Cecil was a bad man—Kain could see he had a gentle heart and a naturally charismatic manner about him, which appealed to other Baron women beyond Rosa. He could also see that Cecil had a tendency to be blind to the affect he had on others, and that he was far too mild for his own good. All of the other boys training to be knights were loud, boisterous and overconfident, always puffing out their chests like little chicks who had just earned their wings, but Cecil? Cecil passed every test with flying colors, undoubtedly…but when pressed or berated by the other boys, his shoulders shrank and Kain always had to step in. He could give fair combat orders and play leader, but couldn't speak up when he noted something breaking protocol. He looked frailer than he actually was, but he acted like it was just the opposite.

It made absolutely no sense, then, why Rosa would choose Cecil over him. What did Cecil have that he didn't? Kain could dance, but that wasn't the issue here. Kain treated Rosa with the same friendly propriety, the same smiles and words of confidence that Cecil did, and he even did it all without looking more a woman than most girls their age in the whole of Baron! He should at least get some recognition, surely?

But almost all of his advances went either unnoticed or foiled by the cruel hands of fate.

How unfair it was that he should be stuck as the "best friend;" the one who always observed and never participated. He had considered looking to another woman—because Cecil, weak and oblivious as always, _was_ his best friend, and Kain didn't wish to ruin that—but every time he tried, Kain could think of no one but Rosa. Sweet, twiggy, awkward, beautiful Rosa, whose physicality had switched places with Cecil's somewhere along the line: at fifteen years, her pale face specked with freckles and arms so thin Kain could wrap his whole hand 'round one with wondrous ease, Rosa now possessed a lanky attractiveness as disparate to her teenage troubles as night is to day.

It was the first thing the training dragoon noticed as he approached her by the light of the bonfire, where she chattered freely with some of her favorite female companions about the day's gossip. She was the sweetest thing Kain had ever laid eyes on: dolled up in a pale red dress with a wrap that draped below her shoulders, black bodice accentuating the womanly curves she hadn't yet grown into, long hair braided back out of her face. It was cute, how she was so humble about her beauty, even while all the girls in Baron whispered that she was (and always would be, Kain decided) the prettiest.

Dressed in the finest clothes he owned for the occasion, Kain walked up to the tittering group of girls, who noticed him long before Rosa ever did. He cleared his throat when just behind her, partially to get her attention and partially to dispel any breaking fits in his still-deepening voice. At the slow rate he was going, Cecil remarked, he would have the deepest tones out of everyone in their choir class.

"Oh!" said Rosa, seeing him at last. She blinked her wide green eyes, and smiled. "How are you, Kain? This is one of the best equinox festivals we've had yet, don't you think?"

Kain smiled slightly, chuckling in amusement. "Almost the best," he agreed.

As the girls sensed something happening, they began to disperse, excusing themselves to go find other things to gossip about. Rosa folded her willowy hands before her as if in prayer, eyes meeting Kain's fully. Kain's heart was thudding like a hammer in his chest, but he hadn't even a bead of sweat to show for it. "Have you been enjoying yourself?" she asked. "You and Cecil disappeared some time ago."

"Yes," Kain nodded, clearing his throat again. "We were playing one of the archery games they had set up. After many failed attempts, we both agreed you would far outclass us."

Rosa laughed. "But Cecil has his sword, and you your lance," she pointed out. "Besides, I am thinking of becoming a white mage instead."

Was that so? Kain was happy to hear. Being a mage of any sort was an admirable position, and he could see motherly young Rosa as a white mage. It suited her personality—any excuse to take care of the people she loved. He nodded his approval, smile widening. "I think you would make a fine white mage, Rosa. You should do it." She lowered her head humbly, and in the pause that followed, Kain added: "Certainly, you would be the most attractive healer I've ever met!"

Rosa huffed, cheeks reddening bashfully. "Oh, stop!" she cried. "I'm no Sylph…but I thank you. Your thoughts are uplifting."

There was that humility again. It should be a crime for girls this beautiful to be so shy about it. Then again, perhaps it was for the best Rosa didn't get pig-headed. That would ruin every image Kain ever held of her in his mind.

"No, I mean it," he insisted. "Rosa…I've known you since we were children. Believe me when I say you will only continue to be more and more astonishing."

She shifted uneasily under the weight of his compliments, face darkening further. Her embarrassed complexion was intensified by the harsh orange glow of the bonfire. Unsure of how to handle the older boy's words, Rosa smiled sheepishly at him. "Kain, my goodness," she laughed. "Such flattery all of a sudden…where did this come from?"

_Just ask her, _Kain thought, urging himself onward. _It's now or never!_

"Only from my deepest sincerities," said the fledgling dragoon. He pressed on, gathering enough courage to bow lightly to the young noblewoman and extend a hand of invitation. "Which is why I would like to ask you, Rosa…"

He was going to get it. He was _really_ going to get it. A chance to have Rosa all to himself, and no Cecil anywhere to be found! Kain had ditched him at first opportunity, leaving him to stuff his mouth with his favorite sweets. No force of fate or nature could stop him now.

"…If I may receive the auspicious honor of having this dan—"

"Kain! Rosa! There you are!"

Kain stopped on the turn of a coin. His outstretched hand suddenly felt cold even in the heat of the bonfire nearby.

No. No, no, no, no, _no_.

Yes. It was Cecil.

The knight in training, as seemed to be his habit, appeared out of nowhere like a ray of sun parting through the clouds. He wore some of the finest attire royalty could buy, his violet eyes bright and shining. His ear-length hair shimmered in platinum waves tinted the color of flame from the bonfire's light, youthful face just beginning to grow into the characteristics of a teenager in puberty.

Kain's mind went blank. This couldn't be happening to him.

"So this is where you went off to," laughed Cecil as he approached. "You about gave me a heart attack, you know. One moment you're there, then I turn around and you're gone!" He laid eyes on Rosa. It was not hard to see he was as enamored as Kain. "I see you've found our Lady Rosa." Cecil reached for the young girl's hand, lifting it up in his own. It was the positioning of a dancer who had long since found his partner.

Rosa smiled back, sunny and unabashed, and that knife which had been speared through Kain's chest since his love for her began twisted until his insides collapsed.

"What have you been up to in my absence?"

"We were just…talking," Rosa replied vaguely, looking to Cecil. "Kain was being quite the gentleman. You should have seen him!"

Cecil laughed, ever full of cheer: "Was he? I've my work cut out for me, then! A gentleman dragoon is hard to ignore!"

Rosa thought she saw something in Kain's face, and it reminded her they had been in the middle of something when Cecil intervened. Minding her manners, she straightened. Her hand still lay content within Cecil's palm. "I'm sorry, Kain. Please continue. What were you saying?"

The dragoon in training paused, assessing the situation before him. His fingers curled back, and finally his whole hand retreated. He stood rigidly once more, arms behind his back.

"Nothing." he dismissed, his voice flat, "Nothing at all."

"Are you sure?" Rosa checked, concerned. Cecil furrowed his brow, seeing something was amiss as well. But Kain only shook his head.

"Never you mind," he said. "Go. The dance will begin soon. It's your tradition, isn't it?"

Cecil was hesitant to leave all of a sudden. "Will you…will you be joining us?"

Kain chuckled bitterly. "I will find a lady. You two have fun. I'll come shortly."

Cautious to leave him to his own devices, Rosa and Cecil eventually departed for the crowd that was going to dance around the bonfire. Kain retreated to one of the chairs scattered about on the edges of the square, nursing a glass of wine and a loaf of sweet-and-sour bread, a Baronian treat that had become one of his favorites.

_It's no trouble,_ he told himself. _They're your friends. They have every right to be happy. Cecil is content, and Rosa is smiling. _That was enough, wasn't it? Their happiness was his happiness.

Really.


	3. Within the Tower

**Author's Notes: **I have no excuses. I am a lazy, lazy writer. My muse requires she be beaten into submission, apparently.

On the plus side, becoming addicted to Final Fantasy Tactics has provided me with a better grasp on the type of lingo I wanted to use with the gallant sword-swinging, lance-spearing fantasy folk that wander the Blue Planet. Now if only I could defeat Marquis Elmdore!

* * *

It was a sensation one could only liken to a dreamy state. His limbs felt heavy and raw, his eyes topped with lead, his head swimming…and yet every nerve, every instinct, was sharpened to a killing point. He swayed from here to there and bowed his head, soaked in the intoxicating strength of Golbez's hold. Consciously, Kain was so wholly unaware of the villain's vice-tight grip that, years (months, even) from now, he would probably look back on it all and hide himself in shame. Unconsciously, though—that was the key point—the dragoon's true mind screamed in perfect lucidity, and went unheard. Only Rosa's voice had pierced through the veil of darkness pressing down on his free will; even that had only liberated him for but a moment.

Without the knowledge that he was now the puppet of a greater scheme, Kain's only thought was that he had been struck by a grand epiphany. All of the pain, the rejection, the unfair lifelong rut that had been thrust upon him, had suddenly snapped into perspective. He could see his path laid out before him, everything neatly arranged inside the lines for the first time that he could remember. For the first time, Kain _understood_.

He was angry—no, _furious_. How could things have gone so awry? At what point had he rolled over and admitted defeat? When had his mounted shortcomings equaled compliance?

Commander Kain Highwind was many things, but one thing he was not was a quitter. He had not quit when Richard took him in, or when he'd struggled through his training as a dragoon. He did not conceal his true intentions like a coward. He did not hold back.

Kain had unleashed the full extent of his feelings on Cecil already; now it was high time that Rosa also know. What better time than while his Lord was away, tending to things in the Tower of Babil? Kain had plenty of time. Even if Cecil fought his way through all of Golbez's Archfiends—which the dragoon _highly_ doubted—there would be nothing left of him in Rosa's heart, so certain was Kain that he could sway her emotions. After all, he was twice anything Cecil would ever be.

The Tower of Zot was altogether a lonely location, situated high above any kingdom known to mortal man, formed of clockwork gears and wrought iron into a stories-high maze of dead ends and false doors. With none but the walls and her long-time friend for company, Rosa was imprisoned in the tower's highest keep. Kain could not have asked for a more beautiful damsel in distress. He said to her once that she would become the most attractive white mage he ever laid eyes on…and he had been one-hundred percent correct. No living woman near or far could compare to Rosa's beauty. It was physically painful for him to see her in her death trap, strung up like a hog for the slaughter at Golbez's insistence, her sad eyes fixed permanently on the floor. What poor conduct to enforce on a lady of the Baronian court.

When he walked up to her, footsteps deliberate and slow, Rosa lifted her eyes and bit her lip at the sight of him. Kain caught the spark of dismay in her gaze, but he could think of nothing except flashing a kind smile.

He laid one hand over the ropes at her wrists, feeling how tightly they fit around. His fingers crawled up over hers to the lifeline that bound her to her eventual demise, keeping her squarely beneath the scythe-like blade of a guillotine. At a moment's notice, the blade was doomed to fall on Rosa's lovely head, slicing her from top to toe like a knife to a loaf of bread. Kain didn't much agree with the sentiment, but it was at Golbez's insistence, and he was bound to the will of his Lord. In addition, knowing that Rosa's peril caused Cecil some concern brought Kain a satisfaction he hadn't had the joy of feeling in years.

The closeness of the dragoon to her body caused Rosa distress; Kain saw the fear and confusion flicker through her expression. "Not very comfortable, is it?" he wondered.

Silence and a doe's set of eyes met him in response.

"Please don't fault me for it," Kain said gently. "It was either this or kill you on sight. I would much rather rest knowing you will live a little longer."

Concern for the dragoon's well-being roiled up to a head in Rosa's chest. "Yet you would turn your spear on Cecil without even a thought?"

Still so focused on _him_; but Kain could hold his tongue. It was only the first few moments, after all, and there was much ground to cover. Only a mild sigh of annoyance escaped him as he looked around, physically searching for the looming shadow of his master, and groped into the far reaches of his mind for any semblance of a link. When he detected nothing, the dragoon set aside his lance, turned his eyes above Rosa, and began to fiddle with the structure of her trap. While Golbez had strung her up like a ham at mass, Kain had observed and memorized every movement; every click, knot and twist; learning the workings of her doom. He knew from secretly watching his master how to activate and deactivate it, how to start the timing mechanism, how to release her from her knots. In essence, he held Rosa's very life in the palm of his hands while Golbez was away.

"What's gotten into you, Kain?" Rosa demanded, eyes following each tilt of his head as he clicked here or pressed there. "Do you see what you now do? You are not yourself!"

Kain pointedly ignored her facts. "I know not what you mean."

Her arms now safely free, the dragoon gingerly lifted Rosa with hands on her sides. She caught herself instinctively about his shoulders until she was let down. Kain had never felt so gleeful at such a simple hold. "You would willingly participate in baiting me to lure Cecil?" asked Rosa, her tone severely rhetorical. "You would allow this wicked man to toy with him as a child would to dolls? I won't believe it, Kain!"

"Forgive me milady, but I fail to see the problem," the blond drawled. Rosa's eyes widened in shock, though Kain continued, "You are hardly in any danger. Do you fear that you would die, should Cecil fail? Observe where you stand, Rosa." To prove his point, Kain drew her closer by the waist until her soft, curvy warmth was nestled against his front (somehow, he missed the uncomfortable tension that sprung up in his damsel as a result). He gazed down at her, helm masking his stare but fully baring the confident sneer on his lips. "Golbez has unwittingly shown me the bread and butter of your trappings. Your life is well assured so long as I still draw breath."

Though tense and uncertain of the proper way to respond, Rosa swallowed dryly, looking up at Kain with steely blues too brave and trusting to befit over half the men in Baron. "Cecil will come," she said confidently. "You and I both know that he will stop at nothing until I am safe."

"You _are_ safe, Rosa!" Kain growled, teeth clenching tight as he held her up on her toes. His gauntlet-adorned hands dug into her arms with a desperate grip that startled her. "You cannot keep relying on Cecil to save you! Golbez has set the Elemental Archfiends upon him. Cecil is a devout man and a knight gallant, but he is still _only a man_. The Archfiends are demons all of a caliber he has never dreamed of, let alone witnessed! Do you think for him to win his battles through _prayer?_"

"He has defeated one already!" Rosa replied, never complaining of the hold Kain kept on her person.

Kain sneered. "By the Gods' good graces and Scarmiglione's tomfoolery," the dragoon retorted. "The defeat of one means nothing except blind luck. Defeating all four would denote true skill."

Rosa fell silent, eyes and posture still defiant. It made Kain's blood boil to be so close to her and yet so far away. Even when he was miles gone Cecil came between them! _Why?_ He was right here before her very eyes, holding her safely, assuring her of her well-being! He had every intention of defying Golbez's instructions to see her unharmed in the end, and still she cried 'Cecil, Cecil, Cecil!' It was infuriatingly endearing to him, the boundless trust this woman possessed. If only it could be directed _away_ from the paladin.

His hold on her loosened, though only for a moment. His hands shifted, lifting from Rosa's shoulders to her cheeks, brushing away loose strands of strawberry-blond hair. "I do not wish to see you put your faith upon a man in vain," Kain whispered. "I have sparred with Cecil since we were children—I know the extent of his skills. I can assure you, against the Archfiends there is a very likely chance he will not make it to this tower alive."

She pouted at him and tried to turn her head away, but Kain held her still. Rosa could feel his gaze intensifying even with the shielding his helm provided, and it terrified her to sense the extent to which he had changed. "I beg you, Rosa: for once in your life, be not so stubborn. I am more than prepared to risk Lord Golbez's wrath to fetch you out of this trap before the blade falls—and I am far more like to accomplish the job than Cecil, at this distance. I am here, _now, _Rosa; you need but speak your wish and I will give my life to grant it!"

At that sentence, the mage's eyes seemed to soften. Rosa looked up at Kain with a pity and sadness that he mistook for a true consideration of his words, and his heart swelled in his chest. To him, there was doubt in her eyes, and that was more than Fate herself had ever dealt him. Rosa knew not the deadly allure of the bone she had thrown, though Kain gladly threw himself at the possibility that her love might sway. A single word would be but enough to spit in the eye of destiny and take her as his own forever.

But instead of affirming his desires, or doing anything other than what Rosa Joanna Farrell was oft to do, she turned her head with brow furrowed and lips pressed thin. "I am afraid for you, Kain," she murmured. For a moment the dragoon was confused. "You put so little hope in Cecil now; you even pray that he will not succeed." Rosa looked up at him, sadness growing. "If you are indeed the Kain I know, then you would have faith that Cecil will grow _stronger_—that he will overcome his trials and put Golbez in his rightful place."

Her words unwittingly tried to infuse the dragoon's spirit with the power to fight Golbez's control; in so doing, not only did he sink further from her grasp, but Kain could also feel all his hopes for stealing her heart being dashed upon the rocks.

Embittered and feeling thoroughly spurned, Kain's generosity vanished with his good mood. He pulled Rosa's arms up above her head and set her upon the trap as quickly as he'd taken her down, and far less gently at that. Rosa silently endured the treatment with sorrow in her expression which the dragoon never bothered to acknowledge. Picking up his discarded spear, Kain turned sharply on his heels.

"It would appear you find the very walls to keep better company," he growled. "I will leave you to your silent thoughts then, milady. Pray you think of _him_ and find some comfort, however false or fleeting."

Yet if anything, his retreating footsteps caused Rosa to struggle. "Kain, wait!"

The same as she so insisted on ignoring his aching heart, Kain heard her cries and let them fall on deaf ears. He required time to think. He saw now the work that lay ahead of him if he ever wanted to replace Cecil: the road was long and arduous, but Kain Highwind would not quit. He would leave Rosa to her ponderings and come back to try again upon the hour. He was sure that with time and patience, she would see reason. He need only persist and be logical and keep a level head about his shoulders.

Though his repressed will disagreed with being used as a tool, it was complacent as Kain thought of Rosa. His fierce competing for her affections was the only point on which all the dragoon's self could agree, whether puppet or participant.


	4. On the Mountain

Of all the things Kain expected to see on Mount Ordeals, the tracks of another human were certainly not one of them. He knew that they could not be his own tracks because the shape was just a tad too big, and far too light of foot to come from his own armor-laden gait. In fact, the longer Kain gazed at the marks, the more he noticed how they were almost invisible, and he imagined the traveler must be remarkably soundless in his or her steps. That should have raised an immediate red flag, but the truth was that the dragoon could care less if other people trekked the mountain as long as he was able to remain out of their sight. It wasn't as if he'd laid claim to the geography; people were free to come and go as they pleased.

He was returning back up to the peak after a day's hunt, the sun having settled out of high noon some hours ago. Rather than go by jumping—the quicker way to return—he took the slow way and walked instead. With the evening's kill slung over his shoulder, Kain scaled Mount Ordeals in perfect silence, occasionally noticing more of the same unidentifiable human tracks out of the corner of his eye. After a mile or so more of travel, Kain finally began to take more interest in them simply because he realized something else: they were following the very path he'd habitually taken to ground level that morning. This mysterious person wasn't just coincidentally ascending the mountain to the same heights as he; this person was actively _seeking _him. The thought made Kain stop cold under the shade of a thick, old tree, marking that he was nearly home again at the mountain's peak.

Paranoia steadily seeped into him like a cold draft. Kain could count on one hand the number of people who would want to find him, and of those few he had never told one of them where he would be. He frowned deeply, concerned and mildly disenchanted by the idea of his past coming back to haunt him. Was it Cecil? Or—God forbid—Rosa? Kain paled at the very idea. Please, please don't let it be Rosa. He could take Cecil's boundless hope and naiveté, Rydia's gentle sternness, even Edge and his obnoxious taunting, but Heaven help him if it were Rosa. He couldn't face her so soon after their adventures; he wasn't ready for that.

To think that if he had simply taken the quick way up, he could have avoided the encounter entirely—at least for that day. But Fate had other plans, as Kain found out: he turned to survey the area and his heart gave him a jolt, simply because _completely out of nowhere_ there was Edge, standing mere feet away from his left as if he'd been there the entire time. Which, given his Eblanese ninjutsu, was not only plausible but probably one-hundred percent true. Now came the aftershock: Kain scowled, first at himself (for being startled) and then at Edge (for having the gall to startle him).

The resentment only worsened as the ninja raised his brows at Kain, and Edge was so expressive about it that the dragoon didn't need to take a peek under his ninja mask to know that there was definitely a very smug grin plastered on the young Lord's face. "Well well, look at _you,_" said Edge. "Hunting and killing your own game with none to hold your hand…you're a man after my own heart, Kain."

"What do you want?" Kain demanded shortly. He was thinking of taking back what he'd considered about tolerating Edge over Rosa. _Anyone_ was preferable to this cheeky buffoon.

"Me? Nothing," Edge replied, holding his hands up at his sides innocently. "This isn't about what_ I_ want. Are you going to go on and shoot the messenger?"

Kain couldn't miss the biting tone in the ninja's voice when he said that, which stung more than it should have, but Kain tried not to let it get to him. He focused more on what Edge had just said. "What message would you be delivering?"

There was a brief lull in response where Edge did nothing but scrutinize him and make him feel quite uncomfortable, so Kain was hard-pressed to pay any attention to the letter the ninja produced until he recognized the wax seal of Baron. Bitter guilt and self-hate reared their ugly heads. It was from Cecil, or Rosa, or both. None boded well for him.

"It's an invitation, if you even care to read it." Edge stated. "Rosa has given birth. They want you to be there for the blessing."

Now Kain was convinced the ninja was doing this on purpose. Dangling that invitation before him like a carrot on a stick, telling him that _Rosa_ had a child, that _they_ wanted him to be there, with a distinct tone of voice that didn't leave him any room to question who "_they_"were or who was the father of Rosa's child. The guilt skewered him first, followed by bitterness, jealousy, more guilt and a forced sense of joy. Kain said nothing; he couldn't even smile. He didn't know how to process all of this other than to stand there dumbfounded and let the emotions wash over him in wave after uncontrolled wave.

When at last he found the words to speak, they were in a deadpan drawl that to anyone else would sound like disbelief. In reality, Kain was simply stuck on this piece of news which left such a bittersweet taste on his tongue. "A child."

"A boy, actually." Edge fed him, still holding the invitation out, "They've decided on 'Ceodore.' God only knows how they dreamed up such a name."

Purely as a distraction, just to try and banish the muddled thoughts in his own mind, Kain did the unthinkable: he focused the conversation on Edge. "You don't like it," he presumed.

Edge made an expressive quirk of his brow and shrugged, eyes turned skyward. "Eh…it's not traditional. But sometimes tradition is boring. It'll probably grow on me." Soon after, though, it appeared he was onto Kain's game, for he flapped the invitation in front of the dragoon again with a pointed look. "But I've said already that this isn't about what I want. Are you going to read this or not?"

Immediately Kain turned on his heels to continue up the mountain. He reasoned that if he didn't do so, his kill would rot before he could eat it. "Why would I bother? You've informed me of the contents."

Edge gave a long sigh that was more telling of irritation than any complaint he could have made, accompanied with a dramatic roll of his eyes. "Of course I have." He droned, "So does this mean you refuse to be the child's godfather?"

It was a struggle not to laugh sullenly at the thought. He, who had done so much wrong, the godfather of Cecil and Rosa's son? That only proved how much they thought they knew. Kain shook his head, eyes down, feeling an even deeper shame. He wasn't ready yet to be mentioned in the same breath as them again—it just wouldn't be right. "That they would even think to choose me as a godfather would be a disservice to their child's future." He declared, "It would be best for everyone if I remained here a little longer."

Not even five steps up the trail, he was stopped again—practically bumped into Edge because the ninja had somehow gotten in front of him, once again completely out of nowhere. Kain made a face under his helm as he recoiled, putting a half-foot of distance at least between himself and the young Lord. Edge watched him sternly; green eyes steadied on him like a hunter on his prey. "And how much longer is '_a little longer,_' Kain?" he wondered.

"That is not your concern," dismissed the dragoon.

"Oh, but it very much is." Edge argued, eyes narrowing. "You see, I'm sure you must have guessed by now, but I didn't just find you by accident going along my merry way. Cecil and Rosa _sent _me out to _find _you, because they trusted that I was the only one with the skills to do so with any possible success."

Kain fell silent. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen this coming—it would have been obvious even from miles away that what Edge spoke was the truth. Not that it would have been very difficult to narrow down where he could be, though he was sure Cecil and Rosa certainly had other matters to attend to (especially now that they were with an infant son).

After a long silence, the ninja spoke up. "You never told them," he growled out. His voice became tense and firm, like that of a parent scolding his child. "Not a damn thing. No packed bags, no farewell, not so much as the courtesy of a _letter_. I suppose had you bothered to leave one at all, you'd have hopped town before the ink could finish drying on the paper."

"Don't you dare patronize me," Kain snapped. "You speak of things you do not fully understand."

"I might not understand you, but I understand _pain _well enough!" Edge jabbed an accusing finger at Kain, all his frustration expressed plainly in his eyes. It was amazing how much Kain could glean of the ninja's mood by simply watching those eyes. He supposed Edge had to have some method of conveying his emotions when he was hiding his face all the time. "I've done nothing but state facts. For all intents and purposes, you _abandoned _them, Kain. Rosa worried you had gone and done something ludicrous out of guilt and it was all Cecil could do to keep her from going out to track you herself—just in case she happened to find you lying dead in a pit somewhere!"

Yet another twist of the jagged knife permanently thrust into his heart: once again he had inadvertently caused Rosa pain. Kain's lips formed into a thin grimace. Would his sins never end? He had sought only to sever himself from his past to prevent further damage, yet it seemed even in that attempt he was nothing but a selfish fool.

The weight of the kill on his shoulders was beginning to grow heavy from standing there unmoving for so long; since it didn't appear Edge was going to let him off without a shouting, Kain dropped it to the ground. "It was not my intention to cause them distress in my leaving—"

Edge cocked a brow at him. "And I suppose you think that makes it all better?"

"_No,_ I never said that," Kain hissed. Already he was beginning to remember why he had hated dealing with Edge. Never mind how time and again the man was picking at deep emotional wounds with truths Kain knew to be a reality. It was inconceivable how one as crass and loud as he came to be one of Eblan's most respected ninja warriors; and their heir to the throne, at that! Trying to be as calm as possible, Kain explained: "I made my decision based on a profound emotion that I could not dispel, no matter what honeyed words they used to soothe me. I did not want to prolong my exit with tearful farewells. I had to leave while my mind was made up."

"You feel guilty because you betrayed them under Golbez's spell," Edge said plainly. With the way he looked at Kain he seemed almost ready to yawn in boredom as he crossed his arms. "No need to pussyfoot about it; any man with a decent pair of eyes can see that. The problem here is that in trying to temper your guilt, you are causing a whole mess of worry for the only two people who sincerely could not care any _less_ what services you provided for Golbez."

"I am aware of how they feel on the matter," Kain growled out tersely. "How they feel is unimportant. How_ I_ feel is the basis of my decisions. I have known Rosa and Cecil since my childhood—they are my dearest and closest friends." The dragoon turned and began to pace, now coiled up like a tightened spring thanks to the can of worms Edge had opened. "However, that they believe I am capable of moving past this as though nothing happened proves that neither of them has grasped the true depth of my betrayal."

Edge made a dramatic circular gesture with his hand; every shrug of his shoulders, every flick of his gaze expressing impatience and anger. "Which would be what, exactly?"

The dragoon whirled on him. "Are you certain you didn't follow me here simply to indulge in mocking me?" he hissed. "So far, you're doing a fine job indeed."

Snorting, Edge replied. "While I normally take much delight in antagonizing you Baronians and your obsession with all things prim and proper, the answer to that grossly childish question is 'no.' I've spent the better part of my week crossing oceans looking for you. After confirming that you are, indeed, still alive, I feel the least I deserve is an explanation for why you would leave your two closest friends hanging high and dry; and, by association, why I have been asked to conduct a wild goose chase which could have been avoided _entirely_."

Kain rolled his eyes, the action almost covert if not for the slight tilt of his head as he did so. "Forgive me Your Highness, I did not mean for my actions to inconvenience you so."

In a brief flash of pride, Edge squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest. "It's _Your Majesty _now, thank you very much," he corrected, causing Kain to groan. Edge ignored him and continued. "Furthermore, yes, it is _very _inconvenient for me. I have a town to rebuild, people to lead, a castle that I don't know what to do with. I have better things to do than stand here with you and spit in the wind."

"Then go back to them, and move on with your life!" Kain picked up his kill, fed up with Edge's persistent nagging and his base attitude. He pushed past the ninja with no manner at all, intent this time on scaling to his cave on the mountain's peak. "You can report to Cecil that I am alive; that should be more than enough!"

Once again he was foiled, startled out of his skin when Edge appeared (out of nowhere) in front of him, for the second (third?) time in a row, and that became the last straw for Kain. Furious, he threw his game to the ground with more force than the first time, fuming until his ears were turning red under his helm. "_Damn_ you, stop _doing_ that!" he roared. "Remove yourself from my sight! I will tell you but once, Edge!"

"No," Edge said stubbornly, hands on his hips. "You still haven't answered my question. What is it that no one seems to understand?"

"Do not act like such a petulant child!" Kain cried. His insides were doing flops at being forced to think on his actions; Edge was hardly gentle about the matter, and he'd endured more than he could handle for one day. "What conceivable reason do you have for prying into my innermost thoughts? Is it some misled brand of therapy? The only thing you have succeeded in doing is rousing my ire!"

Edge barked with laughter. He remained fixed in his stance, blocking Kain's path like a stubborn boar, and thanking Bahamut that the dragoon was too angry to have the sense to simply leap overhead and be done with it. "Petulant, he calls me! You have some balls on you to call me a child when _you're_ the one running from your problems, holing yourself up on this mountain all alone. What are you here for? Do you even know?"

Seething, Kain snarled without thinking the only answer he had come up with in all his months of living on this hellish holy land: "I am conducting intensive training. I must surpass my father's skills as a Dragoon Knight."

"And what good will that aimless kind of goal accomplish?" Edge demanded, eyes hardening. "Do you think that somehow being a better warrior shall excuse your mental weaknesses? What you lack isn't strength, Kain, it's direction! Listen to yourself! You moan and lament over redeeming your guilty actions, yet you flee to the edge of the world without so much as a thought on how to do so—and it would appear in all the time you've been here, you haven't even come up with a better answer as to how!"

With all the ferocity of the dragons his profession was named after, Kain lashed out violently, words dripping with acidic hate as he clenched his fists at his sides and stood motionless in a stance that screamed he was ready to pounce Edge if he spoke further. "Again you speak to me as if I am unaware! Do you think I don't know that I'm lost? How _dare_ you! Showing up here out of the clear blue sky, toying with my emotions, picking at the scabs until they bleed! You know _nothing_ of me; stay out of my private affairs! Surely your mother and father taught you better than that!"

Had Kain reined himself in a split second earlier, he could have caught the error of his ways. Unfortunately, his reaction came instead a split second too late. It was only after Edge had balled his hand into a white-knuckled fist and punched him straight on in the mouth that the dragoon realized what he had so thoughtlessly let slip; by then, the force of impact had left him with a rather lasting throbbing sensation and caused him to stumble backwards several steps, one hand clapped over his face where Edge had assaulted him.

A heavy silence settled between them; neither man dared move, each for his own reasons, making it seem as if time itself had suddenly stopped. As Kain drew back his hand and spotted blood, Edge visibly trembled with restrained rage, clearly trying to see reason in _not _beating Kain to a pulp for invoking the memory of his parents. The fist that he had used to punch Kain squarely in the face was still raised to chest level, emerald eyes burning with raw anger and an intense brand of anguish. Every forced inhale and exhale as the ninja willed himself to calm cut through the air as clearly as one could hear a pin drop.

Once Kain had determined that (luckily) he had not lost any teeth, only sustaining bleeding gums and a cut on his lower lip, his rationale slowly returned. His shoulders slumped as he balanced himself against the closest tree, all at once feeling dizzy—no doubt from the overwhelming shame at the line he had just consciously crossed. Though it was not productive in any way whatsoever towards his redemption, Kain was disgusted with his actions. It was nothing new, although what he had just done did serve as a poignant reminder.

"…I forget myself."

"Yes," Edge strained. "You very much do."

Kain sulked further, head drooping with his eyes fixed permanently on his feet. "I apologize. Please, forgive my senselessness."

For what seemed like ages, Edge didn't speak. He merely glared at Kain with a look that could kill the dead twice over, facemask or not, obviously thinking on what his next move should be. Kain found himself fearing that the ninja might simply up and leave; and if he did, Kain would hardly fault him for it. What Lugae had done to his parents was as monstrous as it was unforgiveable; the dragoon could not even begin to imagine the trauma Edge had endured.

Eventually, before Kain could mentally kick himself any further, the ninja approached him, hardened emerald eyes softening only due to sheer overwhelming heartache. He continued to leer at Kain as he hovered mere inches over the younger blond, driving home the point that he had done the unspeakable even as his voice began to crack. "Kain Highwind…in the short time I was with you, Cecil and the others, I remarked to myself that you are possibly one of the greatest warriors I have ever known." Kain lifted his head, surprised. Once Edge had his attention, he added, "Yet now you are also a remarkably selfish, thoughtless, downright _imbecilic_ man. And to that point, I never much liked you, _and_ I was the _last_ of our group to forgive you for all that you've done, mind control notwithstanding."

Kain wanted to frown at him, even glare again, but he didn't shy away. His silence was rewarded by Edge distancing from him once more, arms crossed, gaze tossed to the side. "However…in this case, I recognize that I am not completely blameless." After a pause, visibly gentled, Edge looked to him again. "For that reason, I apologize as well."

It was the sort of humility Kain had never come to expect out of Edge. Edge, who was so proud and loud-mouthed and driven by his emotions, who had courted young Rydia with all the class and restraint of a dog in heat. He was impressed; he even began to reconsider everything he had ever thought he'd known about the ninja.

In the time it had taken Kain to get lost in his own thoughts, the Eblanese male in question had apparently snapped out of his momentary stupor and gone back to his old self. "You're still a raging asshole for what you said, though." he snipped.

Kain snorted, and his eyes rolled, but he did begin to right himself after that. "I suppose that I am." He was in no mood to argue it any longer—not after an outburst such as the one previous.

Edge watched the blond stagger about for a few seconds, unsure of where to take this conversation any further, if it was to be continued at all. After seeing Kain get lost with himself again, Edge sighed and kicked at the game Kain had hunted, which was still lying uselessly on the ground. "Men do not talk sense on empty stomachs. This kill is too much meat for one person, and I refuse to let you waste it. Let's share it over the fire, and maybe once we've sated our hunger, we can better explain ourselves."

It was the first good idea Kain had heard from him all day.


End file.
